Rogue
by bioncafemme
Summary: Two men, one of Noble birth, one born in an Antivan Whorehouse.  Both drawn to each other like moths to a flame.  Companion piece to "The Awakening". m/m rated M.


**Rogue**

**A Dragon Age FanFiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Nathaniel or Zevran. But by the Maker, I sure wish I did.  
_

_Rated M for sexy time! _

* * *

Zevran stood before the fireplace in Nathaniel's room looking upwards at a painting above the mantle. The man in the painting had dark hair and piercing blue eyes, eyes that he'd been trying to avoid staring into since emerging from the deep cellars under the Vigil. As if hearing Zevran's thoughts the object of his daydream materialized with two tumblers full of amber colored liquid in hand. Nathaniel handed one of the tumblers to him.

"You're admiring the painting?" Nathaniel asked, looking up at the painting himself.

"I was," Zevran confirmed, taking a sip from his tumbler and being rewarded with the smooth taste of Antivan brandy. "Ah, this is good," he commented and then looked up at the painting once more and pointed at it casually. "This man has the same blue colored eyes as you do."

Nathaniel lifted an eyebrow at Zevran, intrigued by the notion that Zevran had even noticed what color his eyes were. "Probably because he was my Grandfather. His name was Padrick Howe. He was also a Grey Warden."

"Ah, so you are following in his footsteps, then, no?" Zevran turned to look up at the young man at his side and found a sadness there that he hadn't expected.

Nathaniel shrugged. "It would seem so. Though I've only now begun to truly appreciate that fact. My Father raised me to believe that my Grandfather abandoned his family for the Grey Wardens. Now that I know that some do not survive the Joining, I think he died. My Father had all of my Grandfather's things burned or destroyed, except this painting. Delilah hid it in a storage closet where Father would never think to look," Nathaniel stated bitterly before taking a drink from his own tumbler.

"How sad," Zevran replied.

"It really is," Nathaniel agreed. "My Father worked very hard for many years on his hatred and resentment of the Wardens. The blight was simply an excuse with which to attempt to wipe them out in Ferelden permanently," he replied.

"Then it is a good thing he failed, yes?" Zevran chuckled.

"Yes," he agreed. "You know, my Grandfather had a bow once. I found it while playing in the cellars as a boy. My Father caught me and gave me a beating that I shall never forget. I wonder what happened to it..." Nathaniel mused.

"Wait right here," Zevran said suddenly, handing his drink to Nathaniel he left the room only to return moments later with a long object in his hands.

When the elven assassin brought the object closer into the firelight Nathaniel's eyes widened in surprise, "Is this what I think it is?" he gasped.

Zevran grinned from ear to ear. "I could not be sure, but it did have the Howe crest burned into the wood. I had Master Wade make the repairs," he said and handed the bow to Nathaniel.

Nathaniel traced a finger over the crest and then slid his hand along the polished wood. "I can't believe you found this," his gaze raised from the bow and locked with Zevran's, a light in his eyes that had not been there before. "Thank you, you have no idea what this means to me!"

Zevran's breath caught at the joy on the man's face. It made the young Howe actually seem young, wiping away years of bitterness and pain. In that moment the young man was not just handsome, he was beautiful. Zevran tore his eyes away from him before he said something that might offend the young Howe. Instead, he took his drink from Nathaniel and stepped away from him. "You're welcome," he said quietly, and then downed the rest of his drink. "Do you happen to have anymore of this? It is very good."

Nathaniel regarded the elf with confusion. "Yes, here," he took the tumbler back from the elf and then refilled it from the decanter on the small side table in his room. He handed the glass to Zevran and watched with surprise as Zevran took another pull from the glass. "Have I said something to upset you, Zevran?"

"Upset? Me?" Zevran favored Nathaniel with a toothy grin and a wink. "No, no, I am just...enjoying the drink, thank you."

Obviously not fooled by the smile that did not reach the elf's eyes, Nathaniel frowned. "You have my thanks, Zevran. You've done a lot for me today, getting me away from Adria's body, listening to me talk, giving me back a piece of my Family's heritage. I feel ashamed that you've done so much for me, yet, I know practically nothing about you," Nathaniel gestured to a chair.

Zevran gave the young Howe a genuine smile this time, happy to have avoided the topic of what was bothering him for a subject that he was much more comfortable discussing. Himself. He sat down in the chair that was offered to him and waited until Nathaniel sat opposite of him. "Well, now. This should be interesting. What is it that you wish to discuss?"

"Alistair has told me quite a lot about your travels together, what I wish to know is what was your life like before that," Nathaniel said.

"Oh? You wish to hear stories of my past, do you? Why does it seem that I am forever telling tales like an old man?" Zevran chuckled to himself.

"If it bothers you, we can talk about something els-," Zevran held up his hand, stopping Nathaniel mid-sentence.

"It is quite alright. Let's see, I was a boy of seven when I was bought from a whorehouse in Antiva for three sovereigns, a good price, or so I was told. The Crows trained me in the art of murder, poison, trap-making, seduction, resistance to torture and how to survive," Zevran took another sip of his brandy.

Nathaniel's face paled. "I'm sorry, that sounds terrible."

Zevran waved a dismissive hand. "It is kind of you to say, however, I never knew that life could be any other way, so it did not seem so terrible at the time."

"But, for someone with a terrible childhood, Zevran. You've become a good man," Nathaniel pointed out.

"Thank you, but I was not always so. In fact, before coming to Ferelden I was a braggart... and a fool," Zevran replied.

One of Nathaniel's dark brows lifted, "You seem many things, Zevran. A fool is not one of them."

At this Zevran threw his head back and laughed harshly. "Which, implies that I am a braggart!" he laughed further at Nathaniel when the young man blushed. "It is quite alright, I agree entirely."

"I didn't mean it like that," Nathaniel said with a slight frown. "So what happened? You said you _were_ a braggart and a fool. What changed?" Nathaniel asked.

"My bragging caught up to me, as do all things in time. I boasted too loudly to one of the Masters, and he gave me the option to bid on a near impossible mark. I took it. I failed," Zevran said with a faint smile.

"The mark being the Hero of Ferelden?" Nathaniel prompted.

"Yes, Teryn Loghain put out a contract on both Alistair and Lyna, the one you call 'The Hero of Ferelden'. Your Father was the one who contacted the Crows, in fact," he replied, not missing the wince that went through the other man.

"Alistair told me that Lyna spared you, against his better judgment," Nathaniel pressed on, pointedly avoiding speaking further on his father's involvement.

"Oh, trust me when I say that I was not his favorite person for awhile. Especially when Lyna and I became intimate not long thereafter," Zevran finished his drink, and fell silent.

"I'm sorry," Nathaniel offered sincerely after a long drawn out silence. "I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

Zevran made a dismissive gesture. "No, no...it is time that I talk about it, I think. I have done a great deal of _not_ talking about it," he replied and sat forward, his glass dangling from a hand between his knees. "She is not the first woman that I have ever loved, nor is she the first one in my life to have come to a bad end. Love, my dear Nathaniel, is a cruel mistress."

Nathaniel looked away from Zevran, "I can understand, I too was in love once..."

Zevran watched the young Howe's face become pained. "She must have been quite the woman to have captured your heart."

"He," Nathaniel said quietly.

"Excuse me?" Zevran asked, almost dropping his empty tumbler in his surprise.

"There was a reason my Father sent me to squire in the Free Marches. I was the eldest son and certain things were expected of me. Providing heirs to the Arling was one of them. My Father was furious when he learned who I was involved with," he explained, still not looking in Zevran's direction.

"Well, you are back now, yes?" Zevran replied. "Have you thought about contacting your lover?"

Nathaniel looked at him suddenly, his expression curious. "Here I thought you were going to ask questions about me having had relations with a man. Does that not surprise you?"

Zevran laughed a laugh somewhere between bitter and genuinely amused. "I grew up in an Antivan whorehouse, my friend. The whores were both men and women alike. My introduction to sex was as broad as one can get. Trust me when I say that there is not much that I have not seen...or done for that matter."

"So it does not bother you?" Nathaniel pressed.

"Should it?" Zevran asked offhandedly.

"My Father was ashamed of me," Nathaniel explained bitterly.

"You must not paint everyone with such a broad brush, my friend. You cannot read disgust into everyone's reactions to you. Your preferences do not disturb me, far from it, in fact," he set the glass down on the floor next to his chair. "You did not answer me about your lover. Have you tried to contact him?"

Nathaniel shook his head, his face pale. "I...can't. He's gone. Three winters ago."

"Ah...then you have my sympathies, such as they are," Zevran replied sincerely. The silence drew out again, discomfiting the assassin. "Perhaps I should go," he stood up intending on retreating before he said something to ruin what friendship they had tenuously built. "Thank you for the pleasure of your company, and for the drink," he turned to go and was stopped when a strong hand closed around his forearm.

"Please don't," Nathaniel's voice was low and thick with emotion.

Zevran looked down at the hand on his arm, "Nathaniel-"

"Stay," Nathaniel demanded softly, interrupting Zevran without releasing him from his hold. He moved from the chair to stand behind the Antivan. "You want this as much as I do. Or am I reading that wrong too?"

"I was born amongst whores and raised as an assassin. There was a time when I knew only the illusion of love. I was taught that those feelings could only lead to trouble, so I hardened my heart. I took my pleasures as they came, while they lasted, and then I moved on. Lyna... changed everything...change me. Do not ask me for things that I can no longer give. If it is only a pleasant distraction you are seeking, I am not the man to give it to you," Zevran replied, trying to ignore Nathaniel's warmth at his back.

Nathaniel's hand loosened on his arm and Zevran found himself both relieved and disappointed. Then to his surprise the young Howe's fingertips dragged upwards, searing a path along Zevran's honey-colored skin. "What makes you think that I would let you go anywhere afterward, Zevran?"

Zevran spun around to look at the young Howe. "Is _this_ what you truly want?" he grabbed Nathaniel by the front of his shirt and yanked him roughly forward so that their bodies pressed tightly together.

A moan escaped Nathaniel and Zevran fought the urge to pull the man into a kiss.

"Yes!" Nathaniel hissed out.

Zevran smirked devilishly. "Then why are we still talking?"

Nathaniel's hands cupped the sides of Zevran's face and his lips crashed down on the elf's in desperation. Zevran's own hands twisted the front of the Archer's shirt in their grasp, pulling the man as close as he could, relishing in the feel of Nathaniel's muscular body against his own.

It had seemed an eternity since Zevran had been with a man, and the feel of Nathaniel's strong and bow-calloused hands sliding into his hair sent a fire racing through the assassin's veins with an unexpected intensity. Zevran broke the kiss and pushed away from Nathaniel, taking in the sight of the larger man's swollen lips and heaving chest. "Take off your shirt," Zevran ordered thickly.

Nathaniel hesitated for only a second before complying. The smoldering lust in the Antivan's gaze spurring him onwards. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside, watching as Zevran approached and then started to circle him.

"Now," Zevran purred when he'd made a full circuit around Nathaniel. "Get rid of the rest."

The way Zevran was ordering him to undress made Nathaniel groan in anticipation. He kicked off his boots and fumbled with the lacing on his trousers. It took him longer than it normally would have were he calm, and right now Nathaniel was as far from calm as one could possibly get. His hands shook as he unlaced his trousers. When he had them finally undone and discarded, he was left standing in his small clothes. He stared at the former Crow, wide-eyed and wanting.

Zevran let his gaze travel slowly down to the last scrap of cloth separating Nathaniel from his hungry gaze. His gaze traveled back up equally as slow, until their eyes met. He lifted an inquiring brow.

Feeling his ears and cheeks grow hot, Nathaniel hastily pushed down his small clothes as well. His momentary embarrassment turned into a small burst of pride when Zevran gave an appreciative hum as he sprang forth from the confines of the undergarment.

"The bed," Zevran growled, obviously aroused by Nathaniel's disrobing in front of him.

"Aren't you a little over dressed?" Nathaniel asked.

Zevran chuckled. "It will take me a bit longer than you," he replied.

Nathaniel moved to the bed and laid down on his side, watching with interest as Zevran began removing his armor and weaponry, some of which were concealed in places he hadn't even realized one could hide weapons. Eventually, however, the impressive array of daggers, poisons, swords and leather armor were discarded on the floor and Zevran climbed up onto the bed with him.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Nathaniel asked as he traced a finger tip along the edge of Zevran's small clothes, causing the elf to shiver at the contact.

Zevran smirked. "All in good time my handsome Rogue, all in good time," he trailed his fingertips over Nathaniel's cheek and then smoothed his thumb over Nathaniels full lower lip. He hissed in surprised pleasure when Nathaniel sucked the thumb into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it.

When his thumb was released Zevran let his hands roam the hard planes and angles of Nathaniel's body, familiarizing himself with every sound the other rogue made under his skilled hands. It was not long before the last barrier between them was shed and Zevran was in Nathaniel's arms, hardened length against hardened length. Each man clutching, pulling, straining, touching, teasing, until finally their dance came to an end. They groaned and shuddered against one another, each reveling in the heat and slick coated satisfaction their encounter had wrought.

They were abruptly brought out of their moment of bliss by the sound of a woman squealing in indignation outside of Nathaniel's door. "Maker's breath!" Nathaniel growled and pulled away from Zevran reluctantly. He pulled on his trousers and gave Zevran a heated look. "Don't go anywhere!" he said, pointing his finger at the elf.

Zevran chuckled. "Oh, no. I wouldn't dream of it!" he replied innocently, batting his long eyelashes at Nathaniel.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and then stalked over his door, flinging it open he stepped out into the hallway. "Dare I ask?" Zevran heard him say. Two voices responded and Zevran's curiosity was peaked.

"Nathaniel, what is going on out there?" Zevran called out, hoping that Nathaniel would leave whoever it was out there to their business and come back to fulfill the promise that he'd seen in the young Howe's eyes before he'd went to investigate.

"Not. One. Word," Nathaniel told the two people in the hallway and shut the door. He came back to the bed and removed his pants before climbing in beside the elven assassin.

"Well?" Zevran asked.

"Alistair," Nathaniel replied.

"Ah," Zevran said understandingly, then he pulled Nathaniel close. "I believe we have more business to attend to, yes?"

"Yes," Nathaniel replied, claiming Zevran's lips.

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**A/N: This was my first full m/m love scene. I hope that it's turned out alright. This is a companion piece that goes with "The Awakening". The next chapter of that shall be out soon. =)**


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